Four Fear
by Estepheia
Summary: Sunnydale 1993. A Circus is in town. Xander, Jesse, Oz, and Jack [OC] set out to sample the attractions but instead they find fear itself. pre—Series story. WIP.
1. Part 1

**Part One**

There weren't many places that afforded a better view of the camp site than the burnt-out ruins of the creepy old factory. Rumor had it the place was haunted, which meant that kids occasionally went there on a dare, but you had to be pretty dumb to hang around after dark.

If you climbed up to the upper level of the gutted main building and looked out through one of the glass-less windows, it was possible to see not just the large red and white striped circus tent, but also several smaller tents in less gaudy colors, and a host of wagons, trailers, and trucks. There was also a pretty impressive looking fence that encircled the entire camp site, warning trespassers away.

The setting sun cast a David Hamilton kind of glow on the site, bathing it in a warm, washed out pink.

Two boys sat inside one of the concrete window frames, their legs dangling outside the building about ten yards above the ground. Both were blond, one lanky and pale, the other more muscular and outdoorsy looking, and sporting a fading black eye. The pale one was dressed in black pants and a sleeveless band T-shirt, the other boy wore grimy jeans and, in spite of the heat, a white, long-sleeved T-shirt.

An open bag of Doritos sat between them. They were taking turns watching the camp site through army binoculars, when the sound of glass crunching on concrete made them turn.

Two boys, slightly younger looking, were picking their way through the rubble. From their looks they could have been brothers, twins even. Same size, dark hair, brown eyes. But that's where the similarities ended. One wore cargo pants and a striped shirt patterned like fifties wallpaper. He was carrying a skateboard. The slimmer one was dressed in jeans and Lakers t-shirt - not quite cool enough to cancel out the devastating shirt of his friend, but fashionable enough to deflect unwanted attention.

"Hey," the pale boy in the window said, his tone friendly.

With a yelp the boy with the skateboard jumped back a whole yard, while the other froze dead in his tracks. Squinting in the near darkness, it took a moment until the skateboarder spotted the speaker and categorized him as not-a-ghost and probably-not-a-bully either.

"And a cordial yet restrained hey to you too," he babbled nervously, then added: "Are you here for the circus?"

The boy with the binoculars snorted. "Course not. We're birdwatchers, looking for dodos, nimrod."

"This is Jack. If he annoys you, ignore him. It helps," the pale boy said evenly, referring to his sarcastic companion. "I'm Daniel."

"Danny Osborne, I know," the second newcomer said. "I've seen you guys around. Eighth grade, right? I'm Jesse, and this clumsy oaf here is Alexander the Great. Xander, when dealing with lesser mortals." He laughed and dodged a retaliatory smack from his grinning companion.

Jack passed the binoculars to his friend and picked up his black biker jacket from the floor. It yielded a pack of Marlboros and a lighter.

Jesse and Xander gaped openly as Jack lit up. It looked really cool, the way he cupped the lighter's flame with his palm to protect it from the slight breeze.

Daniel, on the other hand, was unimpressed. "Yo," he said to Xander and Jesse, offering the binoculars. "Wanna take a look?"

"Cool. I mean, sure." Xander grinned and propped up his battered skateboard.

Taking turns, and trying hard not to cough when the smoke of Jack's cigarette billowed into their eyes and mouths, Xander and Jesse watched the circus people milling around in their encampment. Outside the fence, in front of the ticket office, a queue was slowly forming.

Xander sighed. He probably should have saved more money for stuff like this, but somehow his allowance never lasted long, not with a standing order for fourteen different comic books every month, and a yen for Twinkies and Oreos.

"So, how do we get in?" Jack asked.

"What?" Xander started, hit the window frame with his shoulder and nearly lost his balance. Daniel unobtrusively grabbed the hem of the shirt, saving both Xander and the binoculars from a ten yard plunge.

"See that tree over there? It's close enough to the fence. I say that's how." Jack answered his own question, pointing at the camp.

"Hey, that's a good one," Xander quipped nervously. "I mean, you're not serious, are you? We can't go in there!" What if they ran into clowns? Xander hated clowns, was scared of them ever since his mom had hired one for his sixth birthday party. Just picturing their red noses and big shoes and their pasty white faces was enough to make him break out in a sweat, and how embarrassing was that? He ignored his friend Jesse, who was elbowing him furiously. "What if we get caught? If I get carted home in a squad car, my dad's gonna kill me."

Oozing disdain, Jack took another drag from his cigarette, blew the smoke in Xander's direction and dropped the glowing cigarette butt to slowly crush it underneath his heel. "Danny? Are you still in?" he asked.

"We're in, Jack. You can count on us," Jesse spoke up eagerly, even as he was dragging Xander aside. "Are you nuts?" he whispered. "Of course we're going. When the coolest guy from our school asks you to come along, you don't go 'What if we get caught?' Think about it. Monday morning the entire school will know we've been hanging out with Jack Cale."

Only half convinced, Xander craned his neck to see what Daniel was doing. He seemed like an okay guy, cool even. If Daniel was coming along….

Apparently, he was. Daniel was stuffing his binoculars and a dog-eared paperback into an olive army bag.

"Come on, Xand-man, where's your sense of adventure?" Jesse urged, trying to evoke images of cloak and dagger sword-fights, and duels at the crack of dawn. "It'll be fun. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

"We could all be eaten by tigers," Daniel said with a shrug.

Three stunned faces turned to stare at him. Even Jack looked a little less cool. When Daniel popped a handful of Doritos into his mouth, the crunching noise made everybody jump.

"You asked," Daniel pointed out. "But I think I read somewhere that statistically the likelihood of death by tiger is smaller than the chance of being accidentally stabbed to death with barbecue forks. Unless of course your name is Mowgli and you wear funny red pants. Let's go."

Having delivered this unsettling tid-bit of impromptu probability calculus, Daniel headed for the stairs, never checking whether the others were following him.

TBC


	2. Part 2

**Part two**

The fence looked much higher from close-up, and so did the tree.

"Look at that thing," Xander said, more than a little intimidated by the looming oak and the almost complete darkness in its shade. "It's huge."

The sun had set by now. The cloudless sky was tinged a dull mauve - still giving off more than enough light to see, but no longer full of bright pastels. The full moon, huge above the horizon, gleamed like an enchanted silver coin. But if you stepped underneath the old valley oak it was as if someone had switched off the light.

"So? It's a tree, and it's tall," Jack said with a shrug. "Now climb."

Nobody moved.

From the other side of the fence unfamiliar sounds and smells drifted to the four not-so-intrepid adventurers. The hum-and-stutter of machinery, snatches of music, and animal voices. One creature was roaring repeatedly, evoking images of a moonlit African steppe and a pride of lions tearing into the soft underbelly of a still twitching zebra. Xander swallowed.

"That barbed wire, do you think it's supposed to keep people out or to keep the tigers in?" Jesse asked, studying the fence. It was not just high, but also pretty sturdy. A dark green tarpaulin covered it from the inside, blocking the camp from view.

"Newsflash, loser," Jack snapped. "Tigers aren't some guard dogs. They get locked into cages, eat pork halves, and jump through burning loops. Can we get on with this?"

Since lions or tigers were the least of Xander's worries, Jack's words did little to reassure him. "I have a bad feeling about this," Xander intoned in his best Han Solo voice. The line earned him a fond glance from his friend.

"It's not like we're breaking into Fort Knox. Let's go," Jack urged. "Someone gimme a leg up."

Somehow, but to nobody's surprise, that task fell to Xander. He leaned against the trunk, made a stirrup with his hands and hoisted Jack in the air. A boot dug painfully into his shoulders, almost making him stagger, and tree-bark crumbled on his face, making his nose itch, but then the weight was gone, as Jack pulled himself up.

Jesse and Daniel soon followed. Xander peered anxiously into the foliage. The others were almost fully obscured from view, their whereabouts identifiable more by sound than by sight.

On the other side of the fence, the unidentified creature roared again, loud and fearsome. Maybe it was just a lion or tiger roaring for his dinner; even so, the sound made Xander's blood run cold.

"I'll … uh … stay here and, you know, guard your back, or something." After all, he'd seen circus shows on TV, and if you'd seen one circus, you'd seen them all.

A metal-tipped olive ribbon dangled in front of his eyes - the strap from Danny's army bag. These things were practically indestructible, right?

"Come on," he heard Jesse's voice urge him on.

The alternative was staying here, on his own, in the dark. With one last resigned look at his trusty old skateboard and a mental promise to himself to come back for it later, Xander grabbed the end of the strap. He wrapped it round his hand for better purchase, then half climbed, half allowed himself to be pulled upwards. Two pairs of hands secured him, until Xander was awkwardly clinging to a thick branch.

Jesse welcomed him with an exhilarated smile, Daniel gave him a calm, manly nod, Jack ignored him. Their self-proclaimed pack leader was already edging round the middle of the tree to get his feet on a sturdy thick bough that branched off from the trunk at almost a right angle to the one they were currently perched on.

Grinning recklessly, Jack spread his arms and nimbly balanced along the branch as though walking a tightrope. The branch creaked underneath his weight, even seemed to bob a little. Leaves trembled with every step he took. Directly above the fence Jack stopped and scanned the area on the other side - not for hungry lions but for guard dogs or security guards.

"All clear," he said and turned to face the others.

They straddled the branch and edged forward, crossing the fence much more cautiously than their sure-footed leader. They'd all been brought up on movies where wrongdoers ended up impaled - spires and fences often acting as impartial tools of justice that made sure the hero didn't get his hands dirty.

The branch groaned and sagged under their joint weight, but it held. Jack lowered himself from the bough, feet dangling four feet above the ground. He winked, then let go.

His sneaker-clad feet hit the sun-baked ground with barely a sound. Jack landed in a graceful crouch that made the jump look easy. Like a primitive hunter stalking his prey, Jack silently took in his surroundings. In the twilight, one could almost mistake the dark bruise around his eye for war paint. Add a red loincloth and a spear, and the picture would be complete, Xander thought.

Satisfied that his jump had gone unnoticed, Jack moved aside, rose from his crouch, and gestured for the others to follow.

Danny and Jesse landed less elegantly but without mishap. They raised their expectant faces to Xander. 'Come on,' they gestured silently. Meanwhile, Jack was already edging away, eager to explore the unknown.

The jump looked easy enough. If Danny and Jesse could do it, Xander should be able to make it down too. There was no reason to freeze, yet he did. His palms were sweaty, and his heart was racing, and there was this painful lump in his throat that made breathing difficult and that throbbed with every frightened beat of his pulse.

"Hurry up, you ninny," Jack hissed. "We haven't got all night!"

"Maybe I should stay here. I mean, how are we gonna get back up?" Xander whispered back. "Fly?"

"Yep. That's the plan. We'll flap our wings and swoop over the fence," Jack mocked him. "Dimwit."

"We'll take the main exit," Danny explained matter-of-factly, "after the show, when all the other people leave."

"Oh, right." Xander felt sheepish for not thinking of this possibility sooner. With no excuse left, he wiped his clammy hands on his pants, before awkwardly lowering himself from the branch. Just like gym class, he told himself, looking down to see his feet dangling in the air. Only worse. Mustering all his willpower, Xander let go. The ground rushed towards him faster than he'd calculated, leading to an awkward landing. Xander's right ankle twisted – Ouch! – causing him to lose his balance. Then his shoulder hit the ground. Oof!

"Xander, are you alright?" Jesse whispered urgently.

"I don't know. I—I think I hurt my ankle," Xander said through clenched teeth, trying to gingerly move his foot. Pain flared up, but Xander knew what broken bones hurt like, and this wasn't nearly as bad. Just a sprain, then. Plus of course the sickening humiliation of once again being Mr. Clumsy.

"Can you walk?"

"I can try."

Jesse hoisted him to his feet and Xander limped into the shade behind a large sixteen-wheeler truck, where Danny and Jack had taken cover.

"I'm alright," Xander hastened to say, although he wasn't. Not really.

Jack rolled his eyes, but made no comment.

"The big top's over there," he said, indicating a direction on the other side of the truck. "All we have to do is lie low, until there's a big crowd and then we sneak inside. But we've got at least an hour to kill before they let people in."

They fell silent.

A soft, almost imperceptible hum saturated the air, like a swarm of bees or wasps, but less aggressive. Also, too rhythmic to be made by animals. Maybe the running engine of a car?

Whatever. Xander slumped down on the ground and leaned against one of the huge wheels. He brushed the dirt off his button down shirt, then pulled up his pant leg to probe his ankle with his fingertips. It wasn't swollen or hot or anything, so maybe things weren't so bad.

Suddenly a deafening, drawn-out howl caused the boys to jump. Feral and primeval, it was the kind of sound that could make a grown man run blindly into the dark. It creepy-crawlied down their spines like a centipede. Rekindling instincts that harkened back to the black continent, where the peal of man's first drums had risen stubbornly above a steppe fallen silent with terror.

TBC


	3. Part 3

**Part Three**

Da-dum-da-dum, da-dum-da-dum – the boys' hearts thundered, stampeding madly like a herd of frightened wildebeests.

'Run' an inner voice screamed at them, rising above the rapid drumbeat, rising above the savage rhythm of their fear.

Another howl, louder, and possibly more furious than the first.

Forgetting his twisted ankle, Xander lurched to his feet, oblivious to the pain. He had taken his first two strides away from the truck before he even realized he was running. Two more strides, and something hit his back. Xander fell. Hard.

The wind was knocked out of him, otherwise he would have screamed. A weight on his back pressed him face-down into the dirt. Xander flailed and struggled, assaulted by images of a huge monster with gleaming teeth and claws like knives tearing into his flesh. His scream was muffled by dry earth and a resounding smack against his head.

"Are you nuts?" A voice hissed into his ear. "Where d'you think you're going?"

Jack. Not the monster. If he'd been standing, Xander's knees would have buckled. As it happened, he merely sagged with relief.

"Listen, chicken. We stay together. If I say 'run', we run. But not before." Jack underlined his words with a shove. "Understood?"

All for one, and one for all? Not quite, but Xander nodded.

A moment later, the weight on Xander's back was gone. The other boy grabbed his collar and hoisted him to his feet. "Come on, chicken." Jack practically manhandled him back to the truck where Daniel and Jesse were waiting.

Jesse. His best friend. Who was looking at Xander like someone had just died.

Xander could feel his face burn with shame. He'd run. Turned tail. Without his best friend. He hadn't planned to. It had just happened.

He crouched down beside Jesse. "Look, I'm—I'm sorry," Xander stammered, wishing the earth would just open up and swallow him whole. "I didn't mean to—I just freaked, you know? I wasn't thinking." 'Please don't look at me like that, please don't look at me like that,' Xander chanted in his head.

However, the wounded look in Jesse's eyes showed no signs of fading. "Yeah, whatever," the boy muttered without inflection. He shrugged, and looked away.

"Hey, I nearly freaked too," Daniel said softly.

It was a nice gesture, and ordinarily Xander would have appreciated it, but they were in what amounted to enemy territory, surrounded by wild beasts, and Xander had just lost his best friend to the wilderness of hurt feelings. "Who asked you?" he snapped at the other boy.

"If you're done talking," Jack interrupted, "you might wanna take cover."

His words were drowned out by another howl.

"Whoa!" As one, the boys scrambled for cover. A mere second later, the four boys were huddled underneath the tail end of the big truck, flanked by two sets of over-sized wheels that afforded them a certain amount of protection.

This time, the howl was followed by loud banging and a blur of other, unidentifiable noises. Shouts too.

Xander looked down, and saw Jesse clinging to his arm, fingers digging painfully into his flesh.

"What is that?" Jesse whispered, staring wide-eyed into the dark. His face was deathly pale. He looked as scared as Xander felt.

"I don't know," Xander whispered back, wondering if he should put his arm round his friend's shoulder. He was still trying to find the necessary courage, when Jesse let go of his arm and inched away from him, nearer to Jack.

Xander swallowed. Deep down he knew he deserved his friend's deliberate rejection, nevertheless it made him sick at heart.

The howl had sounded dangerously close, as though the unknown beast was merely a stone throw away.

"I know one thing," Jack said under his breath, "it wasn't a lion. I know a secret way into the zoo. Been there more often than I can count. Lions or tigers don't howl like that. Same goes for hyenas."

Xander had seen enough western movies to know that they hadn't heard a wolf or coyote either. Their howls were higher-pitched, and more forlorn. But compared to Jack's first hand knowledge of animal sounds, watching a lot of John Wayne films didn't quite have the same coolness to it, so he held his tongue.

"I know it sounds crazy, but what if it's a dinosaur?" Jesse asked. "Like a big T-rex or something."

The four boys savored the possibility. Dinosaurs, huh? Of course they knew that dinosaurs were extinct, but wouldn't it be cool if they weren't? Okay, scary too, but definitely cool.

"There were no dinosaurs on the flyer," Daniel pointed out, almost sorry to burst their bubble.

"Only one way to find out," Jack said. He edged closer to the sharp line on the ground where silver moonlight met the blackness of the sixteen-wheeler's shadow.

Xander watched Jack's outline raise his head to listen and – yeah, he was sniffing the air.

Xander sniffed and listened too. He couldn't smell anything except motor oil and diesel, but he could hear a multitude of sounds riding the silken nighttime breeze: not that freaky howl but other animal voices, like horses whinnying and at least two elephants trumpeting. Some large cat roared, a lion maybe. All these sounds seemed to come from the far side of the camp.

Jack crawled out of the shade and into the open. When he straightened up, Xander could no longer see his face. Only a pair of denim-clad legs.

Xander twitched nervously. Did Jack expect them to follow? To leave the safety of cover and stumble around in the dark? What would Daredevil do, The Man Without Fear? Probably what Jack was doing: find out what was going on.

Jack crouched down to look at them. "Wait here," he murmured, "I'll be right back." A few seconds later, the darkness had swallowed him.

TBC


	4. Part 4

**Part Four**

Xander decided that Jack had to be the coolest person ever. Or maybe the foolhardiest. Or both. The verdict changed every two seconds. But why did he always have to pick on Xander? It wasn't fair.

He glanced at Daniel as though the other boy held the answer, but a raised eye-brow was all he got.

"Is he always like that?" Xander asked, nodding vaguely into the darkness that surrounded their hiding place, but meaning Jack, of course.

"Like what?" Daniel asked back. He sat comfortably, ankles crossed, arms resting on his thighs, looking calm and collected like a Cheyenne brave in a powwow. A very pale Cheyenne.

'Brave?' Xander almost said, but instead he shrugged.

Help came from an unexpected corner. "Who gave him the black eye?" Jesse whispered eagerly. "Is it true he got into a fight with Larry?"

"Ask him," Daniel said.

Jesse and Xander exchanged a glance of mutual exasperation until Jesse remembered that he and Xander were still at odds and pointedly looked away.

"I bet it was Larry," he mused. "It would explain why Principal Flutie made him stay after class for two weeks in a row. That's what you get for roughing up the football jocks."

Daniel shrugged again. Jesse was on the wrong track, but Daniel was determined to keep his friend out of the school rumor-mill. If he told Jesse and Xander about Jack's mean drunk-ass uncle, chances were that by tomorrow everybody, down to the janitor and the fifth graders, would know.

He squinted into the dark. His heart was still racing, but it didn't bother him. Fear was something that you pushed away.

Jack was gone for an eternity, well, a few minutes anyway. It just _seemed_ a long time. Even Oz was relieved, when Jack finally slipped back into their hiding place.

"Hi girls, miss me?" Jack's face was obscured by shadows, his blond hair a mere blotch of grey, but his teeth gleamed, even in the dark. He was grinning. "Wanna see something cool?"

"What do you mean, 'cool'?" Xander asked. "Are we talking things that go howl in the night?"

"Didn't find it," was Jack's curt reply. "It's probably locked up in one of the cages. Whatever 'it' is."

"You sure?" Jesse whispered.

"Do you see any circus folks swarming around toting their guns?" Jack said scathingly. "Of course I'm sure."

It made sense. Yet Xander couldn't shake a sense of foreboding, and Jesse didn't look entirely convinced either.

"Now, there's a few more trucks like this one, closer to the big top. I say we work our way there. But first? A little detour. There's something you _have_ to see."

"Like what?" Jesse asked, perking up.

Jack grinned again, and maybe it was just a play of moonlight and shadow, but Xander didn't like his grin at all.

"Follow me, and I'll show ya."

Without waiting for a reply, Jack darted away, and the other boys had to scramble to keep up with him. Like four Cheyenne braves on the war path, the boys filed through the darkness, flitting from cover to cover. Twice they heard footsteps and snatches of conversation in a language they couldn't understand and had to stay hidden. In the end they had to leave the cover that the huge trucks provided, because they had reached a cluster of trailer homes. Unlike all the vehicles they'd passed earlier, most of these were lit and clearly occupied.

Jack crawled under a parked pickup truck and stayed there, flat on his belly. The other boys jostled around until they all fit under the car.

"There." Jack pointed at a trailer, about ten yards away. It looked old and worn, but sprouted a modern satellite dish on the roof. Yellow light spilled out of the windows, surrounding the trailer with a warm halo, and illuminating a clothesline full of laundry that connected it to a neighboring trailer. Thankfully, the darkness hid Xander's blush, because most of the laundry consisted of women's lace panties and bras, elegant lingerie in burgundy and black.

Someone moved behind the transparent curtains. Xander's jaw dropped when a woman's shapely silhouette could be seen quite clearly against the light.

Sensuous music drifted towards the dumbstruck boys, some song about blue velvet.

All thoughts of lions, wolves, or dinosaurs fled their brains. The boys gaped with awe at the woman's outline, the proud curve of her full breasts, the flatness of her belly and the seductive sway of her hips as she danced through the trailer all by herself.

She wasn't exactly _naked_, it was clear that she was wearing a bra and panties, and there were curtains between her and her secret audience, but still, Xander's heart was beating madly in his chest and a strange, inexplicable restlessness grew inside him.

"Yowsa," Jesse whispered, nudging him with his elbow, his grudge momentarily forgotten.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Xander quipped back, grinning.

His heart fell, when his friend frowned, and inched away.

"Tell me, chicken," Jack addressed him. "Still sorry you came along?"

Xander mutely shook his head.

Suddenly, sounds approached from behind, snatches of a conversation and brisk footsteps – sounds the boys hadn't noticed earlier because all their senses had been focused on the woman in the trailer.

"—damn thing knocked out the generator," a male voice said. The speaker sounded agitated. He had an unfamiliar accent.

The four boys exchanged panicked glances. Too close. No time to run. They huddled together, curled up tight in the limited shade that the pickup truck provided.

A pair of scuffed work boots with muck and straw clinging to the soles noisily walked past them, followed by the softer tread of a pair of well-polished black designer shoes.

At first the boys thought the two men would pass, and they did, but then the black shoes slowed, and doubled back. They stopped right next to the truck, so close, Xander almost gagged on the smell of shoe polish. The boys held their breaths, hearts clamoring deafeningly in their chests. Any moment now, hands would reach under the truck and drag them out of hiding. Xander tensed, ready to bolt as soon as Jack yelled for them to run.

"Ah yes, it does tend to get a tad aggravated when the full moon rises," the second man said. He spoke with a pronounced British accent and the languid arrogance that Xander had come to associate with movie bad guys.

Xander relaxed minutely. It didn't sound like he and his companions had been spotted.

"If you knew that, why didn't you tell us?" The first man said, sounding angry. The man's consonants came out a harsh staccato. Reminded of all the KGB agents in spy movies, Xander decided the man sounded Russian. With all the foreign accents, Xander felt like he'd stumbled into a Bond movie.

The truck creaked and shook slightly. At the same time, the guy with the black shoes crossed his black-socked ankles. Xander realized the man was leaning comfortably against the car facing, yes, facing the lit trailer with the beautiful lady in her undies. So that's why the black shoes had stopped here: the man was a peeping tom.

Xander felt a stab of moral outrage on the woman's behalf, neatly sidestepping the fact that he and his pals had been watching her themselves. The man was a grown up – that made all the difference.

"It must have slipped my mind." A lighter was worked repeatedly. Sounds of greedy inhaling. Exhaling. "But you dealt with the problem, I hope?"

A faint smell of cigarette smoke drifted underneath the truck.

"Knocked it out, yeah. But I had to crank up the dosage again. I'm running out of drugs. It took four goddamn darts this time. More than enough to knock out four elephants for the rest of the night. But I'm not sure how long your critter will stay down."

Xander had been too frightened to listen to the conversation, but now he realized, they were talking about the monster.

"It's not I my /I critter, as you full well know," the British guy said pompously. "But you're right, creatures of its kind are indeed quite resilient."

"I was wondering, if maybe you have something to keep it down? Something that works a little faster?"

"Do I look like a pet doctor to you?" There was more than a hint of menace in that question. Even though it wasn't directed at him, the tone made Xander's skin crawl.

"No, Mr. Rayne. No, of course not."

"Restraining the creature is entirely your part of the deal, not mine. I, as you will recall, was merely hired to spell our four-legged friend through customs, immigrations, and any vehicle spot check that chance may throw your way. Anything beyond, well, I'd have to charge extra…."

Just then, the song that drifted from the yellow lit trailer, the one about the woman in blue velvet, came to an end. Xander held his breath, waiting for more music but apparently the show was over. All he could hear was a door opening and closing, and the rattle of keys. Xander dared a peek. The trailer was dark and deserted.

"Oh well, I'll see what I can whip up. A sleeping draught, perhaps." The man with the black shoes sighed wistfully. "A pity. I'd have loved to see your pet cut a swath through this town. The havoc, the chaos, the bloodshed…. Oh well, some other time."

Suddenly, less than a foot away from Xander's face, a small object hit the ground. Tiny fiery sparks scattered in all directions. After all this talk about chaos and bloodshed it was too much. Xander recoiled. With an audible bang the back of his skull struck the metal underbelly of the truck. By sheer miracle, no yelp of pain escaped his lips.

The black leather shoe that had been about to step on the smoldering remains of the cigarette stopped in mid air.

TBC


	5. Part 5

**Part Five**

Frozen in terror, the boys didn't even dare breathe.

A lion roared in the distance, but its call was drowned out by a mechanical stutter nearby that sounded like someone was trying to start a car.

On the ground, the cigarette butt glowed in the dark like an evil eye, its acrid smoke stinging Xander's eyes.

Da-dum-da-dum, da-dum-da-dum – Xander's heart felt like a frightened animal about to burst out of his chest and skitter into the dark. A bead of sweat trickled down his face. Then the black shoe came down, as the man very deliberately ground out the glowing embers.

"Showtime," the man said, and then he briskly walked away. A moment later the man with the work boots followed.

Xander closed his eyes. He felt light-headed with relief, in spite of the throbbing pain in his head.

"That was close," Daniel whispered, when the two men were long out of earshot.

Xander nodded weakly.

"You almost got us killed," Jesse hissed.

"I almost got burnt by that cigarette," Xander shot back.

"Shut it," Jack snarled. "Both of you." He crawled out from underneath the truck, stood up, and tugged down the sleeves of his jacket, before dusting off his pants. His movements were edgy, and he looked pale. "Did you hear that? There really is a monster. I don't know about you, but I can't wait to see it. Come on."

The other boys got up more slowly. They exchanged worried glances.

"What is it?" Jack asked. "Oz?"

"Maybe we should go home," Oz ventured calmly.

"Home?" Jack echoed, grimacing as though he'd bitten into something rotten.

"Home. Four letter word. H-o-m-e," Xander said. "That wonderful place where they have to take you in, where the heart is, where the clean laundry lives."

Jack ignored him, focusing on his friend instead.

"It's getting late," Oz said, holding Jack's gaze. "My folks will be worried." He shrugged apologetically.

"Yeah, mine too," Xander quickly came to Daniel's aid.

Nine nights out of ten, his parents were too busy watching TV, drinking, or fighting – or all three – to care about their son's whereabouts, but only Jesse knew that and he wouldn't tell, would he? Xander shot him a nervous glance. Jesse fidgeted, but he held his tongue.

"But we just got here," Jack snapped. "The show's about to start. We can't go home I now /I ."

Xander wasn't quite ready to admit it openly, but he'd had his fill of high adventure. Not enough swash, and way too much buckle. His knees were wobbly like jell-o. And not just that: his throat was parched, he'd kill for a Twinkie, and he needed to pee. "You're right," he said, "we can't go. We have to stay and get eaten by monsters."

Jack glared at him. "Fine. Go home. Go back to your mommy." He let his gaze wander from boy to boy. They squirmed under his disdain. "You know what? You can all go, for all I care, but I'm staying. I'm here to see the show, monster or no."

He turned on his heel and stalked off, not once checking whether the others were following or not. Jesse was the first to rush off after him. With an impassive shrug that could mean anything between 'one for all and all for one' and 'this is stupid, but I don't care,' Daniel slung his army bag over his shoulder and went after them. Panic rose inside Xander like bile and he scrambled after the other boys as fast as his aching ankle permitted. After all, what else could he do?

They zigzagged quietly from trailer to trailer, and truck to truck. Progress was slower this time. Costumed circus people were milling around everywhere, involved with last minute preparations. Several times the boys had to duck behind crates or double back to avoid being seen. Once, they caught a glimpse of a fake Elvis in a glittering white suit who walked past their hiding place, humming a popular tune – a green-skinned Elvis with red horns protruding from his temples.

"Nice make-up," Daniel whispered, when the man was out of earshot.

"Either that, or he fell into a barrel of radioactive paint," Xander speculated, thinking of the way the X-men and other comic book characters got their powers.

"Oh yeah? What about the horns?" Jesse asked, making it sound like Xander's idea was the dumbest ever.

Xander never got a chance to counter his friend's venom.

"What the—hey, you! How the hell did you get in here?" someone yelled behind them, an angry male voice.

Xander whirled around, heart racing madly, and came face-to-face with the one thing he feared more than anything else.

Green-and-orange checkered pants, a tiny blue hat on false orange curls, a shiny big red plastic nose in a stark white face. It was the clown of all clowns. Or he would have been, if his whitewashed features hadn't creased into a mask of fury. The unlit cigarette that dangled from his bright red lips, fell to the ground unheeded. Cursing, the clown waddled towards them in a ridiculously awkward gait, as fast as his oversized shoes would carry him.

By the time Jack yelled "Run," Xander was already four paces in the lead.

As one, Jack, Jesse, and Daniel turned tail and ran after Xander, who was sprinting heedlessly towards less brightly lit parts of the camp, not even trying to be silent. Speed was all that mattered. Clowns were bad. Clowns were evil. Clowns asked you to touch them in a bad place. Clowns threatened to come back at night and kill your mom if you told anyone.

Clowns were worse than any monster.

TBC


End file.
